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@nap-screams
I do idly wonder who, if anyone, will see this blog in the future. If you knew me, I'm sorry, mostly because it likely brings you pain to have the illusion of me shattered like this. But that's why we hid it
if you decide to read it anyways be prepared for many negative emotions about what is documented here
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ah yes, the very normal thought of "I'm tired. death would be nice" that normal thing normal people want. normally.
we're so incredibly impossibly fucked. is there a way out for us? probably not, certainly not easily
we shouldn't think about dying as much as we do but, it still consumes us. the idea of endless night. of unbroken rest. we don't need to worry any more after. and it probably shines through everything we fantasize about, if you know how to see it
and we attempted, once. or rather, she did. and the thing we keep coming back to about it is a comparison. we've heard that people who survive their own attempts frequently report every problem that brought them there feeling solvable during the attempt, in the frozen moments between action and consequence. and that is not what we have experienced. we remember peace as we fell asleep with what we thought was poison in our belly. peace because we were free, no more obligations or problems, just sweet oblivion. its a strange dichotomy, problems being solvable with a little more time, a little more life or problems being solved, if you can call it that, with an end, a severing of their origin. and now we face that dichotomy once more, with no good answer
we shouldn't think about dying as much as we do but, it still consumes us. the idea of endless night. of unbroken rest. we don't need to worry any more after. and it probably shines through everything we fantasize about, if you know how to see it
yay, painful clarity time. we lie to ourself all the time about love, about whether we deserve it or whatever. and despite all the excuses we make about it, in the deepest part of us, we know the truth. we're afraid. afraid of being hurt once more, and afraid that we do deserve it, that all the minimizing and shrinking and squishing and silencing we've done to ourself, was for nothing. that everything we did, was less than worthless. and that terrifies us, so we make excuses to ourself
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please don't remember us, we're not worth it. i promise there's someone better, somewhere. one day soon you'll all forget and everyone will be better for it. you can be happy and i can find a quiet place to scrub the mistake that is my beating heart from the face of the world
please don't have fallen for us. i really don't think we can handle that. maybe its hubris to think it may be happening again but. it happened once before
we'll never tell anyone but we do hope that we randomly get killed on accident, what a shame but no one could predict it or save her. now we're free and those that are grieving or not can do so without the baggage of it being by our own hand and do it together
ah cool we really need someone to choke us and probably kill us. we are so damn tired of life and just want to leave it by a kind hand. that would be nice. we're such a goddamn mess
yayyyyyy. more thoughts about how i am bad and inadequate. because we didn't have enough of those
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being plural and maybe sort of suicidal is rather funny because of the way that we'll be like multi-track thinking. "I sure hope we can pull that big event off next year" and "maybe we'll be dead by next month, that'd be nice" can and will be coexisting despite their obvious clash in timelines. because our lovely brain is such a shitshow
ah, the familiar bitterness of seeing a child being taken care of a way we were not. as with everything nowadays, it is ashen and without much weight. we hope it is from healing but doubt plagues us
Are we loved? Do we love? It's hard to say. It all feels like so much ash on the wind. and sorting it all out seems so hard, more trouble than it's worth. death, as usual, feels so much easier
fuck fuck fuck
fuck
FUCK
why are we Like This. we read a chapter about a character nearly getting assaulted and being very traumatized about it and what do we feel? need. jealousy. yearning. desire to be wanted that much. enough to overthrow reason. not a reaction that, you know, is reasonable or normal. we're a mess and a half. probably a mistake. nothing about us make sense anymore. no normal pieces, no redeeming qualities. we are a bitter cold callous piece of garbage and it is really showing tonight
screw it saying the fucked up quiet part out loud: we should be killed about this (and a half dozen other things) and it feels like a strange injustice that we aren't dead or very hurt about it
oh. it's worse than that. it's not the violation we really want, we do want it but it's also being rescued. rescued from what? we don't know. we're so broken we don't even know where the breaks, the injuries, are, much less the pieces. maybe that's why death is what it is to us. it is an escape. a one way hatch none can follow
we would hand you our still-beating heart, fresh from our chest, were we able to. and after? we care not about after. death and life after are not our concern. you hold our heart now and we will do anything but take it back. or we will be dead on the floor and that's fine too
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fuck fuck fuck
fuck
FUCK
why are we Like This. we read a chapter about a character nearly getting assaulted and being very traumatized about it and what do we feel? need. jealousy. yearning. desire to be wanted that much. enough to overthrow reason. not a reaction that, you know, is reasonable or normal. we're a mess and a half. probably a mistake. nothing about us make sense anymore. no normal pieces, no redeeming qualities. we are a bitter cold callous piece of garbage and it is really showing tonight
screw it saying the fucked up quiet part out loud: we should be killed about this (and a half dozen other things) and it feels like a strange injustice that we aren't dead or very hurt about it
fuck fuck fuck
fuck
FUCK
why are we Like This. we read a chapter about a character nearly getting assaulted and being very traumatized about it and what do we feel? need. jealousy. yearning. desire to be wanted that much. enough to overthrow reason. not a reaction that, you know, is reasonable or normal. we're a mess and a half. probably a mistake. nothing about us make sense anymore. no normal pieces, no redeeming qualities. we are a bitter cold callous piece of garbage and it is really showing tonight